Three times Clarke hugs Bellamy and one time she doesn't
by Strawwolf
Summary: Turns out that once you start hugging, Bellamy is a hard habit to break. [Bellarke]


I.

It was finally over. Mt. Weather had been conquered and Camp Jaha was celebrating.

A giant bonfire in the middle of camp was being well fed with the flames reaching well above everyone's heads. Sparks spit off into the air with the heat a welcome balm against another cold night. The Grounders and the Ark were celebrating together and after their hard-fought battle no one seemed averse to the idea. Music and laughter could be heard echoing from one side of camp to another. Even Indra had cracked a smile. It was of course after half a dozen cups of Monty's Moonshine but it still shocked everyone, Lexa included. She and Jaha were all business though, going over their next plan of action while she sharpened one of her daggers.

The leaders of both groups had gathered around the fire, sitting on overturned storage containers or logs, toasting one another or reminiscing on their exploits at the battle. Major Byrne and Gustus were trading kill techniques while Abby stared quietly into the fire while Kane brought her a refill of Camp Jaha's favourite alcoholic drink.

Several smaller fires were burning around camp with one such spot surrounded by the 100. The victory had been doubly important to them because of the rescue mission to retrieve their people.

And now most of them were reunited and partaking liberally in the batch of booze that Monty and Jasper had cooked up as soon as they had arrived in camp. Of course for the moment Monty was doing everything one-handed due to a broken arm and Jasper was leaning everywhere rather than sitting after getting shot in the ass but they'd escaped relatively unscathed.

It had been thanks to Raven, Wick and a few well-placed explosives at the dam to disrupt Mt. Weather's power grid and draw out a repair team. A Grounder ambush had dispatched them with unsurprising swiftness, leading a mixed group of Arkers and Grounders to don the biohazard suits for an infiltration mission. Led by Clarke the goal was to bring down Mt. Weather from the inside and free the rest of the 100. Bellamy had of course insisted on going but had been blocked by Kane, much to his frustration, who sent Major Byrne instead.

"Just don't go getting yourself killed," he'd told Clarke.

She'd smiled. "I'll be fine. My mom will kill Byrne if anything happens to me. Plus I know how to shoot a gun remember? Just make sure to watch out for acid fog."

He'd nodded. He still didn't like the plan but there were no suits left and deception was the key to getting inside. So instead he'd waited, gun in hand with the hours ticking by. It hadn't been easy. He'd felt the unease surrounding him. The adults weren't used to waiting around in the forest without a fence to protect them. Smirking at their fear had been the best distraction as it kept him from thinking about what was going on beneath his feet.

An interminable amount of time later the door creaked open again and finger to the trigger he'd held his breath. A crowd of wide-eyed kids, his people, emerged into the sunlight. Strangely dressed and almost blinded they held up their hands as if in surrender before noticing the crescent of people with weapons trained on them. As they poured out Bellamy kept his eye on the door, watching and waiting for the infiltration group to come back. Lexa was first, covered in blood and limping badly. Indra followed with deep gashes on both her arms along with Gustus who appeared to be missing fingers and had a nasty head wound, leaving only an empty doorway.

Minutes seemed to pass during which time Bellamy had stood, gun loose in his hand, eyes focused and worried. Finally Byrne had appeared, half dragging Clarke who appeared to have been shot or stabbed in the shoulder, the front of her jacket soaked in crimson.

Abby had run forward as guards moved to secure the doorway. Ripping fabric and exposing skin had revealed a bullet-sized wound. Bellamy hadn't moved. Concern and shock were writ large on his face as Clarke tried to assure everyone that she was 'okay' before she passed out. Several hours and many stitches later she was heavily medicated and sitting next to him on a log, staring into the fire. Some hadn't been so lucky though. Miller had lost an eye and they'd never found Harper. But Clarke was alive and nursing a full cup of booze.

"I thought your mom said you weren't supposed to drink with everything they pumped into you," he nudged her leg.

Clarke shrugged. "I wasn't planning on having any. I just needed a cup for the toast. Here," she handed it over, her movements sluggish and clumsy as she almost dropped the cup. Bellamy had to reach out and extract the beverage from her fingers.

For a long while they sat, not speaking, just enjoying the conversations around them, their people. On the other side of the fire Raven had engaged Wick in a drinking contest that the Engineer was losing at spectacularly.

As she watched them Clarke murmured, "You know this wouldn't have happened without you."

The reality was that their accomplishments would likely go unacknowledged by the camp. The adults still weren't really sure how to handle them, these 'children' with too little discipline and too many ideas.

Bellamy quirked an eyebrow at her. "I can't take all the credit princess. I just held a gun. You did all the hard work."

Clarke smiled at that. "You know what I mean," she nudged him. "In the beginning when we landed and didn't know what we were doing. You gave everyone purpose and a reason to think for themselves instead of what the Ark wanted. Without that there would be none of this," she gestured out in front of them.

Bellamy shrugged and downed his drink, having developed a nice buzz off of Monty and Jasper's latest batch which was much smoother than anything they'd had at the dropship.

"Just don't go doing anything stupid next time alright?" He stood rather shakily and dusted off his pants. Apparently this batch was stronger than the last one.

Clarke snorted and stared down at her hands, remembering how Gustus had lost fingers trying to protect Lexa. "It was a through and through. I was better off than most."

Bellamy looked down at her with concern, "Clarke you could have bled out. Your mom said another few inches and it would have gone through your heart."

"But it didn't. And I'm fine. See?" She stood too quickly and nearly face planted from dizziness when a strong grip on her arms brought her upright.

He smirked, "You sure you're alright?" His dark eyes searching her face for affirmation.

And maybe it was his firm grip or the fact that she was basking in the glow of pain medication or that they had good reason to be happy but instead of confirming his question she walked forward and hugged him. And rather than the desperation of when she'd seen him for the first time after the fire at the dropship, this time it was slow and tentative.

"I'm fine Bellamy. Thank you. For having my back."

He looked down at the blonde head and found himself returning the gesture.

"You're welcome," he whispered.

II.

She finds him at the edge of camp, staring out past the fence, hands on his hips.

It had been a difficult birth. Abby, Jackson and Clarke had all been on hand with Octavia screaming and screaming and screaming, the pain of labour pulling tears from her eyes.

Lincoln had even brought one of Lexa's healers, a woman named Shan who wore animal teeth woven into her hair and a distrustful look on her face. She had looked down on the security that escorted her to Medical but once she had seen Octavia's swollen belly she had moved with a swiftness and surety that had set everyone's mind at ease.

Lincoln and Bellamy had taken turns pacing outside while the rest of the camp had been subjected to the loud cries emanating from one of the 100 impregnated by a Grounder, practically a child herself. Some were disgusted, others saw truth. Survival meant working together and every child, no matter what, was a piece of the future to be cherished.

That had been almost 20 hours ago.

Now the camp was silent; stillness had descended like a veil, blanketing all with the same sorrow. Octavia was sleeping, sedated with a watchful Lincoln hovering over her. Shan had left without a word, her hand coming to rest on Lincoln's shoulder for a moment before departing. And Abby sitting alone on the floor, her legs drawn up to her chin, hands clenched into fists, pressed to the floor. There had been so much blood, a boy born blue and young mother crying in anguish.

She finds him by the edge of camp, staring out past the fence, hands on his hips.

Words are useless now. Camp Jaha's first baby, a new era, a nephew who'd never drawn breath. She can tell he's fighting tears, blinking furiously, shifting his weight, ignoring her.

So instead she does the only thing she can. She walks over and reaches her arms around him, pulling him close, her head to his chest. For a long while he doesn't move. She can feel his heartbeat, the steady expansion and contraction of his chest, the tickle of his breath on her ear and then the tentative touch of his fingers on her back before he engulfs her in a hug of his own, the pressure enough to tell her he needed this.

And they simply stand there, with Clarke holding him up and Bellamy holding on. And there are no words, just a steady rhythm, a give and take, an understanding.

III.

There hadn't been any warning.

The first signs only became evident days after returning from the expedition to the Swamplands. In good faith over their newly signed trade agreement, Lexa had sent Faran, one of her trackers to lead them through the bogs. Abby and Clarke had been consulting with Nyko about natural remedies as their medical supplies were running low and he'd told them that a wide variety of herbs were available on the far side of a bog-ridden area. It was faster to walk straight through but very easy to get lost in. Abby and Kane had asked for volunteers as the area was unknown and Bellamy had been one of the first to put his name forward. He'd been stuck in camp for weeks and was itching to get out and do some exploring, especially now that the Grounders in the area weren't a concern.

The small party had set out with Faran in the lead on a bright morning just as the sun was rising. Several days later they'd returned with bags filled to the brim with a majority of what Abby and Clarke had been looking for. Everything continued as normal for two days.

And then in the middle of dinner Monroe had collapsed, spilling her meat ration in the dirt, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. They'd brought her to medical but her condition wasn't something they were familiar with: fever; coughing up blood; wheezing. A day later another member of the expedition fell to their knees while on guard duty, spitting blood onto the dry ground. Mother and daughter exchanged a look while treating their second patient with the same symptoms. Immediately they isolated the other expedition members, hoping that whatever they had it wasn't contagious.

Octavia practically ran to Lexa's camp for an explanation, hoping that the Grounders were familiar with the illness.

"Can Nyko help?"

"No," Lexa twirled her knife on the arm of her throne, digging the blade into the wood. She looked up to meet Octavia's eyes.

"What about Faran? Is he sick?"

"He is dead." Octavia's eyes widened. "He had Palus Fever."

"Is, is there anything we can do, maybe a plant or a medicine that we can give them?"

Lexa shook her head. "They will live or they will die. There is no cure."

By the time Octavia returned to camp they'd had their first casualty. The guard had passed away some time in the night, his breathing growing shallower and shallower until it ceased altogether. And no amount of CPR was able to bring him back. Just over half of the expedition team was sick with little to no change.

That's when the rumours started to spread. Everyone steered clear of Medical, even those who needed medicine and Abby, Jackson and Clarke decided to quarantine themselves just in case it was airborne. Some suggested it was the plants they'd brought back that were killing people and they should probably burn them just to be safe. Others thought that it might have been something in the swamp like an insect and they'd all been bitten. But Lexa had offered no explanation as to how one caught Palus Fever, just that it was fatal in some cases.

Fortunately Monroe started to improve after spending a week on a cot. Her slow recovery was hailed by Clarke who spent some time relaying shouted messages from the 100 for her. People were still wary about approaching their section of the Ark though Raven came the closest wearing a big smile after Clarke yelled that Monroe was going to be just fine.

Making her rounds for the day Clarke stopped in to check on the rest of the quarantined expedition team. She turned to Bellamy.

"How are you feeling?"

He looked over at her, that knowing look in his eye. "Should you even be here?"

"I've probably already been exposed trying to treat everyone who's sick."

He frowned at her nonchalant response. Clarke just rolled her eyes.

"It's what doctor's do Bellamy."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're not a doctor Clarke."

"And you haven't answered my question."

He shrugged. "If it happens it happens. There's no point worrying about it."

She narrowed her eyes at his lack of concern over possibly dying. "Look if you feel any shortness of breath come and get me okay?"

He nodded and Clarke went back to completing her rounds. The place was starting to feel like a larger version of her cell on the Ark. She wasn't allowed out and there was only so much one could do before repetition became your worst enemy. So instead she decided to start sorting and drying the herbs that had been brought back for them. Untying the sealed bags she was hit with the earthy scent of nature and breathed deeply. She and her mother had determined that the illness was something they had encountered within the swamp. Nyko had been explicit in his descriptions, even going so far as to lend them one of their precious books with drawings of what they were looking for. None had any of the side effects their people were experiencing. So she tried to keep herself busy and distracted while hoping that the worst was over.

Clarke wasn't the only one going stir-crazy though. The rest of the expedition team felt fine and yet until they were cleared they were stuck in quarantine. So instead of frantically pacing they decided to go over the plans and supplies they were going to need to start building the greenhouse Monty had been pushing for. Arguments had waged back and forth over size, especially since they didn't have glass to work with only heavy sheets of translucent plastic. After several hours they'd hammered out the majority of the details as well as a rough blueprint. But when they stood to get dinner Bellamy stumbled, trying to catch his breath. And as he gasped for air he started to cough, getting progressively louder as if he were trying to expel a lung or two.

That's how Clarke found him, on the floor trying desperately to breathe. Bringing a hand to his forehead she detected the beginnings of a fever. She pushed down the fear she felt trying to overwhelm her and had Jackson help move him to a cot.

The next few hours involved Bellamy coughing up blood and wheezing as his temperature steadily rose, slowly pulling him into unconsciousness. At least in that state the chest-rattling spasms had ceased. She wiped his face, neck and chest down with a cold damp cloth, trying to bring down his fever. It was monotonous work but she didn't mind. After all Monroe was going to be cleared to leave Medical any day now and if she could recover so could Bellamy.

Time passed like a spade through frozen earth as the rest of the expedition fell prey to the illness one by one with varying degrees of severity. Some died, some recovered, some lingered.

oooooooooo0000000oooooooooo

"Clarke," Abby brought a hand to her daughter's shoulder, "you should rest."

"I'm not leaving."

"You can't help him if you collapse," she gently reminded her.

Clarke ignored the obviously practical advice. She only left his side when she had to and more often than not forgot to eat. Her mind was always elsewhere when treating other patients and she couldn't stop yawning. The toll was starting to show on her face and in her mind but she refused to give in.

"I can't help him if he's dead."

Abby sighed and instead brought over a blanket. If Clarke was going to pass out from exhaustion at least she'd be warm. Taking one more look at her daughter bent over Bellamy, she wondered at how it was that the two of them had come to lead the 100. From what she'd seen they were dissimilar in almost every way except how they felt about their friends.

While Abby made the rounds, Clarke was fighting to stay awake. She listened to the juddering rattle of his breathing, every pop and bubble, every hitch and crackle. In the beginning it had taken hours to stop from panicking every time he fought to inhale. She'd bit her lip until it bled worrying over what might happen if she left him even for a minute because she _knew_ she couldn't do this without him. More importantly she didn't want to. He pushed her when she needed it, challenged her and supported her. It couldn't just end here; she wouldn't allow it. And so she tried to keep him cool, tried to keep him hydrated, no matter that her shoulders ached or that she had a steadily growing headache or couldn't remember the last time she'd slept. She was going to pull him out of this if it killed her.

It didn't help that he looked like death, his face pale and clammy, his breath a constant rasp. There was a vulnerability there reminiscent of when they fought Dax that night in the forest. He'd been ready to break then and appeared much the same now, though in a different way. In the end though Clarke knew it wasn't up to her if he lived or not. All she could do was watch and wait and hope.

As she shifted in her chair, trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable she closed her eyes once, twice and then dipped into oblivion, hurtling headlong into the sleep she had held off for so long. She dreamt of the night sky and fire and closing the dropship door only this time she was trying to get out because Bellamy was on the other side and he was going to die if she didn't reach him. Her legs wouldn't work though and neither would her voice, leaving her staring out at his face as the door came up, locking her in.

Blinking in confusion Clarke found herself in Medical with a sharp pinch in her neck. Her eyes widened when she realized she'd fallen asleep and sat straight up, wincing at the pain her odd sleeping position had caused. Staring straight at her was Bellamy who was awake and sitting up and smiling.

"Morning," he said a rough voice.

All she could do was stare at him for a moment, feeling tears forming as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing a hand up to cradle his head, threading her fingers into his hair.

"You're alright," she smiled into his neck, closing her eyes in relief, squeezing tight to him.

"Easy Clarke," he coughed weakly.

Alarmed she pulled back, searching his face, still holding on in case it wasn't real, in case this was all a dream.

"You are alright, right?"

He nodded, the mischievous look in his eyes telling her the truth of the matter.

"Your mom came in and checked on me a few hours ago. Said I'll be fine to leave in a few days. I wanted to wake you but she thought it would be better to let you sleep. You did put my feet to sleep though."

Clarke stared down at his blanket-covered legs. _I was sleeping on him?_

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Besides it kind of sounded like you needed it. Your mom said you were pretty worried about me," he smirked.

She felt heat in her cheeks before throwing it right back at him. "Well someone had to look after you when you fainted."

He frowned. "I didn't faint. I was sick!"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go get something to eat. Do you think you're up for Ark rations?"

Bellamy nodded, leaned back and closed his eyes.

As Clarke stood she turned to look down at him. "Hey Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Just, don't do that again okay?" Her voice had grown soft.

"Do what?" He cracked an eye open.

"You aren't allowed to die on me. I need you."

At those last words his face softened. "I'm not going anywhere Clarke."

Considering that as good as a promise she nodded and strolled off to find them some food with Bellamy looking on.

IV.

Morning had a way of arriving at the worst possible time. Sunlight peeked in through the cracks in the door, illuminating the couple in bed who were still sound asleep, tangled under a nest of blankets, limbs all akimbo

Bellamy was the first to stir, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, shivering slightly in the cold morning air. He looked over only to find Clarke had scooted to the edge of the bed, twisting the blankets as she went. Reaching over he wrapped his arms around her, smiling at her half-asleep protest at being moved.

"I promise I'm warmer than any blanket princess," he pressed a kiss to her neck before pulling her back to his chest. He hissed as she pressed her cold feet against his.

"You're right you **are** warm," she murmured.

"Why are you always so cold?"

"Maybe it's because you're always so warm?" She pulled him more tightly around her, weaving their fingers together.

"Hmm," he muttered, relaxing into her, closing his eyes.

"Just go back to sleep."

"We can't. We have a trade meeting this morning."

Clarke grumbled under her breath about responsibilities being unnecessary this early in the morning. "Just a few more minutes."

"If we're late Lexa's gonna kill you."

"If we're late I'll let her. Now shush."


End file.
